


sweet fools, fly away

by ncfan



Series: Legendarium Ladies April [4]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Background Relationships, Bechdel Test Pass, Dyfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationship, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Númenor, POV Female Character, Second Age, The Elven-birds, The Mariner's Wife, legendarium ladies april
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:19:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6437068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncfan/pseuds/ncfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ancalimë and the Elven-birds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sweet fools, fly away

The two birds had been there for as long as Ancalimë remembered. They were always there in the garden, hopping from branch to branch of every tree they could find, though they mostly kept to a tree that was flowering at any given time, especially Mother’s prized vardarianna trees and a lovely white tree in the midst of the garden that went nameless. If Ancalimë was looking for the birds and couldn’t find them, there was every chance she would find them asleep in the vardarianna tree that grew by her mother’s bedchamber window, or that nameless white tree.

Ancalimë knew no other birds like them, not in all of Númenórë. They were full-breasted, and gray-feathered, with short gold beaks and gold feet. Their eyes were uncommonly discerning and intelligent; there were times when Ancalimë felt almost as though she could have spoken with them, though the only time she tried, they didn’t answer her. When she reached out a small hand to stroke their heads, they cooed and fluffed their velvety feathers. When she sang a few notes, they sang back, in voices so sweet that Ancalimë could sit for hours listening to them, and sometimes she had done just that.

“Mama?” she asked one day when they were both in the garden. Ancalimë stared up into her mother’s face with wide eyes, her mouth pursed inquisitively. She pointed up at the gray birds, who were perched on a nessamelda. “Where did those birds come from?”

Mother followed Ancalimë’s pointed finger with her eyes and smiled slightly. “You didn’t know, Ancalimë? When your father and I married, the Elves bestowed those birds upon me as a wedding gift.”

“They’re Elven-birds?!” Ancalimë demanded, her voice pitching high and her pulse quickening. Weren’t Elven-birds supposed to be magical? And two of them had been living in the garden the whole time…

Mother nodded, though her face was momentarily marred by a small frown. “Yes, child, but please don’t shout, not here. The birds mate but once in their lives, and live in pairs for the rest of their lives. They sing to one another, and…” She smiled wistfully. “…They will not suffer separation. If they are separated, then they will fly and fly until they find each other again.”

“How do you keep them?”

“They know my name, and wherever my home is, theirs is as well.” The smile faded from Mother’s face. “Unlike some, they do not need to be compelled to dwell at home,” she muttered, and looked away.

-0-0-0-

Without anyone thinking to consult Ancalimë on the matter, the house in Armenelos where she had lived with her mother had been shut up, and they had moved out to the white house in Emerië, where all was silence but for the wind and the bleating of sheep. No more visits to see Grandfather and Grandmother in the palace, and Mother said they wouldn’t be visiting her parents in the Andustar, either.

_“You and I, Ancalimë, we will spend our days here. Here we shall have peace, and no trouble shall come upon us. Doesn’t that sound like a better way to live than waiting in Armenelos for something that will never happen?”_

Father was going to be very confused when he came home and found his house empty and his family and servants all gone. No one but Ancalimë seemed to have thought of that, or cared.

It was hard getting to sleep at night. Ancalimë’s bed was no less soft and inviting here than it had been in Armenelos, but her sheets smelled differently—the ones in Armenelos smelled sweet like flowers, whereas the ones here had a harder, crisper scent. They felt different too, harder, almost, though one of the maids said that that was only because they were new. Armenelos had never been so profoundly _silent_ as the white house, either; even in the dead of night, Ancalimë could prick her ears and hear music, bells, someone laughing. Here, it was only the wind and the occasional cry of a sheep to break the silence of night. Ancalimë often found herself praying for rain.

She sat up in bed, scrubbing at her face. Despite the late hour, Ancalimë found herself wide-awake. She considered calling for her mother, but thought better of it. Mother hadn’t really shown herself patient the last time Ancalimë had called for her in the night.

The thing to do was to go get something to eat from the kitchens—maybe bread, or the dried figs Ancalimë had heard Zamîn talking about earlier that day. Ancalimë crept out of her room, hoping she wouldn’t meet anyone on the way to the kitchens. Mother would scold her if she caught her out of bed.

As Ancalimë was making her way slowly down the hall, a dancing shadow caught her eye. Outside, a tall, slender spruce tree swayed gently in the wind, its branches waving lazily from side to side. But as Ancalimë looked at it, she spotted something that stopped her dead in her tracks.

There were the two Elven-birds. They had been left behind in Armenelos, forgotten by all—indeed, in the upheaval of the move to the house here in Emerië, Ancalimë herself had forgotten all about them. No one had told the birds where they were going; no one had paid them any mind. But there they were, asleep in the spruce tree, one bird with its head tucked in the crook of its mate’s neck.

When morning dawned over the hills, Ancalimë rushed to her mother’s bedchamber, her cheeks flushed and eyes shining. She found her mother already up, sitting in a chair by the window, her back turned to Ancalimë. “Mother, did you see? The Elven-birds followed us here!”

“Yes, Ancalimë, I saw,” Mother said quietly. She clutched at her skirt with white-knuckled hands. “I sent them away.”

Ancalimë stared at her in confusion. She shrank back from her mother, just a touch. “But… Why did you do that?” she asked, her heart constricting painfully. “I thought you liked them." 

“I do, child. They are very dear to me. However…” Mother turned away from the windows and smiled at Ancalimë. Her eyes were lightless, and resembled nothing so much as two gray pebbles. “…They are not suited to a house such as ours. Now, get dressed and comb out your hair so we can go eat breakfast.”

Ancalimë knit her brow, but nodded.

-0-0-0-

Over time, Ancalimë had accustomed herself to the quiet of Emerië, had indeed grown to love it and wear it as a second skin. It was remarkable how clearly she could think when away from the noise and sundry other distractions of a city. However, even after so many years, she had yet to re-accustom herself to Armenelos. No matter the time, there was some sort of noise, even in the dead of night—music, bells, the sound of someone crying. Worse still were all the lights—no true darkness could ever be found, not here in Armenelos. It was like trying to sleep at sunset, a task many could accomplish with ease, but Ancalimë, only with difficulty.

_I do not think there is so disruptive a place in all of Númenor. Even Rómenna and Andúnië are quieter._

She sighed and rolled over in bed, half-contemplating just bringing the coverlet up over her head and being done with it. But no. Even so near to the sea, summer nights were warm enough that if Ancalimë did that, she might well suffocate. At the very least, she’d be covered in sweat and in need of another bath come the morning.

 _At least I can call these chambers my own,_ she thought with a grimace, as she kicked the sheets away from her body. _My dear ‘husband’ keeps to his own quarters_. Blessed be the fact that the King and Queen, and the King’s Heir and their spouse as well, maintained separate households from one another. At least Ancalimë could be free of Hallacar in her own rooms; there was a boundary line that even he did not dare cross.

At length, it became clear to Ancalimë that sleep would not find her this night, no matter how she searched for it. Fumbling about for her matchbook, she lit the lamp that stood near the bed and stared helplessly round the room. The hour was ill for taking a walk through the grounds, and anyone she might wish to visit was likely fast asleep. Reading? She hadn’t the concentration for it; she felt altogether too restless to sit in a chair and read a book.

 _I suppose I could pace the room until I collapsed from exhaustion_ , she mused wryly, pressing her fingertips to her brow. _It would be something to do. Ah, I know what I need._

Ancalimë strode across the room to one of the windows, hoping to unlatch it and breathe in fresh air. But when she unlatched the window, she looked down at the sill, and frowned.

Perched on the window were two gray birds, with short gold beaks, and gold feet. They were asleep, one bird with its head tucked in the crook of its mate’s neck, but as one they awoke, and turned dark, uncommonly bright eyes on Ancalimë.

Ancalimë felt suddenly as though all the air had been knocked from her lungs. Tentatively, she reached out a hand and stroked both of the birds’ heads in turn. They cooed softly and plumped their feathers, narrowing their eyes in apparent pleasure.

Ancalimë stared at the two birds for what felt like an eternity, while they stared back, affectionate, untroubled. Finally, she shook her head and swallowed back on what felt remarkably like a scream. “Fly away,” she said tonelessly. “You will not find what you seek here.”

And so they did. Filled with some nameless emotion, Ancalimë stood at the window and watched them fly away, until they were but two specks against the disc of the moon.

**Author's Note:**

> Vardarianna—one of the fragrant evergreen trees brought to Númenor by the Elves of Tol Eressëa  
> Númenórë—a more conservative Quenya form of the name ‘Númenor’  
> Nessamelda—one of the fragrant, evergreen trees brought to Númenor by the Elves of Tol Eressëa.  
> Emerië—a region in the Mittalmar devoted mainly to sheep-herding.  
> Andustar—The western promontory of Númenor. The north of this region was rocky, with forests of fir trees on the coast. Andustar contained three small bays which all faced west, the most northern of which was the Bay of Andúnië. The south of the Andustar was fertile, and there were forests of birch, beech, oak and elm trees. Timber was this region’s main source of wealth.


End file.
